pull the trigger
by Pheobetitanessofthemoon1234
Summary: she grabs the mouth of the pistol, but instead of tugging it from him like he expects her to - like he wants her to - she points it at her own chest. 'kill me,' she tells him, eyes wide and daring, lips set in a cold smirk. 'kill me and be done with it.'/ in which Enjolras is a snake in the grass and Eponine is his target. Enjonine, Epiferre.


**prologue: he is assigned**

"Name's Jondrette," Javert says, leafing through the thin file before slapping it onto the desk in front of Enjolras. "Queen of the streets, Lady of Shadows, Mistress of the Night. Whatever you want to call her. An order just came in for her assassination."

Enjolras takes the file - colored grey, indicating that it is a file for an assassination order, with a red label, indicating that it is a long term order - and opens it, examining the information that is trapped within.

_Known Name: Jondrette_

_Full Name: N/A_

_Age: N/A_

_Status: Mafia leader_

_Nicknames: Queen of the Streets, Lady of Shadows, Mistress of the Night_

_Birthday: N/A_

_Family: N/A_

_Friends: N/A_

_Known Allies: La Patron-Minette_

_Hometown: N/A_

_Address: N/A _

_Ooh, how original_, Enjolras thinks as he reads over her nicknames, sweeping blonde curls out of his eyes as he leans forward. Seriously, who comes up with these? 'Mistress of the Night?' Lord almighty. He reads over the page again, brow scrunching. "

Did the filers miss something? This can't be it. He flips to the next page, only to see a neatly typed list of all her crimes. The font is so simple, just a neat print, from far away you'd never expect it to be about such heinous, dirty things. He flips back to the first page, reads over it again, eyes skimming the various _N/A_s that are scrawled over the paper. That is all. Those were all the basic details known about her. _Wow_.

"Is this - "

"It is all we have on Jondrette," Javert supplies. "So we have to make the most of it."

_No wonder it is a long time order_, Enjolras quietly thinks to himself. Instead, he says, "Yes, sir."

"This will be your first long term order, rookie. What are the top rules when working a long term order?"

Oh, yes. Long term orders are the bane of the weak-hearted. When dealing with a long term order, you have to burrow you're way into the life of your target. Get close to them, make them trust you. Not only is it because it makes it easier to go in for the kill, but also because you can collect useful information that can be used against the target's allies and associates even after they are eliminated.

"Don't get attached," Enjolras recites, "and don't let your guard down."

Javert stares at him, frowning. It is only a step down from his disapproving scowl, so Enjolras knows he missed something.

A sudden burst of memory explodes in Enjolras' mind. _How could I forget? It is one of the most important of the three._ "And do not kill without the final signal."

A final signal can be anything. A distant gun shot, a note posted beneath a pillow, a coded phone call. It only depends on the situation.

Javert's frown does not lift, but neither does it deepen, which Enjolras takes as a good sign. "Good. Now, look at her kill level, rookie," he says.

Rookie. Yes, Enjolras had only become an official assassin a year ago, but not after training for most of his life. And he was nineteen years old. Yes, even after graduating with the highest scores in the history of T.A.J.U. (They preferred to call it Taju, because what it actually stands for sounds terribly boring), being named a prodigy by nearly every higher power in the administration of T.A.O.J, Enjolras is still a mere rookie to the likes of the great Javert, his mentor.

Despite the fact that it was Javert who chose him ("There's no way in hell that you can pass this up, Enjolras!" Courfeyrac had yelped when he saw the list of people who had requested Enjolras to be their apprentice. At the top, in Lamarque's trademark pen and thick cursive, the name 'Javert' was scrawled. "All the other potential mentors are irrelevant! Javert _chose you_!"), he has this way of looking at the young apprentice like he dislikes him intensely.

Enjolras flips to the back of the file, where, in the corner, a two-digit number has been inked on.

He nearly chokes on his breakfast - and it is twelve in the afternoon. All agents eat at five in the morning - however, he contains himself. _You must always maintain a respectful air in the face of your elders_.

"This is a - "

"Number Twenty-four," Javert completes, voice plain.

"But sir, it's only been a year!" Enjolras is flushed white. He barely resists the urge to belt out with a full blown, high pitched shriek of '_HOLY MOTHERFUCKING SHIT_!'.

Number Twenty-fours are, in short, dangerous. As in _d-a-n-g-e-r-o-u-s_, dangerous. So, of course, killing a Number Twenty-four is, not technically speaking, but just traditionally speaking, a rite of passage among the rookies of TAOJ. Thing is, there had to be at least three years of apprenticeship to even qualify for a Number Twenty-four.

"Yes," Javert sighs. "I'm aware of that, rookie. But an order is an order, and I'm assigning you to it."

Enjolras blinks.

After a moment, he hears the words that Javert doesn't say. He sees them in the black eyes that glare at him, feels them in the air that Javert sends towards him when he flicks his wrist in dismissal.

_So you better not screw this up. _

He silently promises not to.

(And somewhere out there, the fates laugh as they unroll his thread and intwine it with someone else's)

**A/N: hello. This is my first Les Mis one. Hi. Hello. **

**Disclaimer: I claim nothing. Except Taju and TAOJ. Also I claim Lamarque's pen because I want it goodbye and thank you. **

**Note: yes, yes. I will get to updating Pretty Boy. Problem is, I seem to have driven myself into a ditch I can't get out of and I'm just trying to make the next update as good as I can because I'd hate to disappoint. **

**P.S. remember to correct me for what I have missed on correcting. I have instilled in myself the holy fear of constructive criticism, but that does not mean it is not welcome. **


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